Archive for October 16, 2008

A true story, a love story!

I’m not one of those bloggers who keep their private life in the closet. But i haven’t been saying much about my lovey-duvey, scrumptious-delicious, wonderful—–delightful husband (that song, “She is D.I.S.C.O.” by N-Trance, came to mind. Oh.. yes.. they were called N-Trance and “Stayin Alive” belonged to either them or the shrill-voiced geeky-triplets of Bee Jees, not clear). So i thought I might create a whole post for and about him. Enjoy!

His name is Christopher Hunt. Chris Hunt, for short. Or “Croissant”, as he jokingly calls himself – the mouth-watering kind! Alas, he wasn’t always Christ Hunt. He went by the name “Bamm-Bamm” long before the psycho that’s later to become his Misuz came into his life. Even got a little tattoo to show for it.

“Everyone called me Bamm-Bamm when I was a kid” he smiled embarrassedly the first time I discovered it on his arm “There was a cartoon entitled The Flintstones when i was growing up–” (“Oh I know The Flintstones”, I interjected, “Elma–and whatwashiname, the ‘Yabba-Dabba-Doo!’ guy, stone-age people who used rocks for everything?!) “—yeah, anyway, the Flintstones had a kid, his name was Bamm-Bamm. He was incredibly strong for his age. And always getting into fights. Kind of like I was..”.

I ofcourse googled the character the next day. Herebelow is my adopted-version of Wikipedia’s Bamm-Bamm Rubble:

As a teenager, Bamm-Bamm spent most of his time between his mother’s house in Apple Valley, California, and his dad’s house (an all-white neighborhood a 4 days’ bus-ride away) in Florida. He loved chess, history books and hip-hop. He had a mother who made him laugh like no other, even when she is nursing a broken heart; an older brother who didn’t hesitate to beat him to crap but was always there for him; a little sister who everybody liked spoiling, and a Mexican role-model named Alfonso who took every boy in the neighborhood (black/white/mexican/filipino) to the cinema every Sunday and talked about his dream for them on the walk home after an ice-cream treat.

After coming across her Yahoo! Answer about women, Bamm-Bamm was impressed with abesheet. A look at her profile gave him the address for her geocities weblog which led him to her blogspot page. He learned about her love for books, the fact that she (like him) never belonged and the many untrustworthy characters she came across online. So he decided to become friends first. Which he started by reading, and discussing, Zadie Smith’s “White Teeth”. “I have the rest of her books” he told her later “And I’ll send them to you if you promise to take me out for coffee when i come to Addis”. She didn’t think he was being serious, or that the girlfriend he’d be coming to visit in Addis would allow him to, but gave him her mailing address anyway. First came the books. Then the phone call. Then abesheet started wishing the [no doubt dumb & pretty, that must be why he doesn’t like talking about her] girlfriend away. After he called her one day to tell her a joke, that actually cracked abesheet up (about the Chinese guy who jumped out and said “Supplies!”), she decided to ask, before anybody got hurt, why he was doing this with her.

“I wanted to know what you wanted from a guy,” Bamm-Bamm confessed, smiling, “I didn’t know much about Ethiopian women, and you could be intimidating at times. But when you told me how lucky this girl was for me to decide to take such a huge chance on her, I knew you were using cynicism to cover your fear of rejection. So I decided if that’s what it takes to get your attention, I will“. Midnight phone calls, followed by feverish days, became as frequent as e-mails for the next two months. They talked for FOUR hours on one of those days, bringing the monthly phone bill to more than two grand. He said it was money well spent!

Five months later Bamm-Bamm came to Ethiopia and met abesheet. They kissed until they could feel their lips no more, held hands all the 9 days they were together and parted with tears (hers, while he rubs her back and whispers affectionately that won’t be the last they see of eachother). Still, abesheet wasn’t willing to relocate to the States (wanted to prove it was him she was after, and not America, and insisted on wanting to finish school so she could become the writer she always wanted to be) so seven months later Bamm-Bamm moved to Ethiopia and they become man and wife. In this version, Bamm-Bamm’s super strength was not actively mentioned and was only shown on occasion, when abesheet needed someone to hold her hand. He became more passive and sensible in his manner and let abesheet feel she’s in control, for he knew her to be a control-freak.

The next nine months weren’t easy for Bamm-Bamm. Sure, he loved Addis (where he heard the sound of laughing children for the first time after so many years). The food was delish. The weather suited him fine. And every time he left the house (to run errands for abesheet, to take lunch for abesheet in the glaring mid-day sun, to stretch the legs) he made friends. Friends who told him where he could find the only internet café you could take your laptop to and connect for free, paying only for coffee and delicacies used. Who offered him good deals on game-softwares (and, once, a free ganja). Even taught him some Amharic words. They didn’t always tell him what the words meant (so when he replied “Egzeber yimesgen” to “ante dehna neh?”, making the older ladies at the condominium go “ohhhhh”, he imagined it meant “I’m fine thank you”). But he caught on real fast. Could write and read Amharic alphabets before two months were over and knew Abinet Agonafir’s song “Suusse” like the back of his hand. He and abesheet enjoyed shopping together; cooking together (or him telling her something funny that happened through the day while she’s chopping something); and making fun of those coming in and going out while tasting the delights of Bilo’s café every morning. But none of the projects they counted on worked. So he stayed at home, long days and sleepless nights, dropping the weight like flies.

When the nine months were over and after convincing his wife it’s about time she made some sacrifices of her own, Bamm-Bamm moved back to California, and started over. He works two jobs. He goes to school. Hardly getting any sleep and dealing with terrible back pains. He pays his bill, he pays her bill, he helps his family out, and still manages to give his wife a call four times a week. It’s what keeps him going, he tells her, and all he needs to make him reach for the stars is her telling him she knows he’s doing it all to have a life with her – in a house safe from rodents, with a bit of garden.. and a swingset where their beautiful kids (with HER hair and HIS eyes) can play and laugh, like kids do in Addis. And, oh yes, he still is the source of strength for & the only person who can make abesheet laugh.

October 16, 2008 at 6:16 am 8 comments


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The blogger tries to think outside the box, or wonder why she sometimes can't.

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"I will speak for you, Father. I speak for all mediocrities in the world. I am their champion. I am their patron saint." - Antonio Salieri, from the movie "Amadeus"

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